Foundation
by Ghostina
Summary: A series of one-shots of interactions between Oliver Queen and Malcolm Merlyn in season 1. As two archers on opposite ends of vengeance and justice, they challenge and exemplify each other at every turn... even when they don't realize it
1. Focus

**Foundation: Focus, Strength, Tension, Draw, Release**

**Summary: ** A series of inter-connected one shots that deal with Oliver and Malcolm. It also deals with Oliver's return from the island, and some issues he might have had with acclimating. Not slash (currently)

Focus

Oliver found himself hesitating, a new trait he had developed since returning to Starling City. In a fight, he never faltered, and he hadn't against those thugs that had taken him and Tommy. Social outings, on the other hand, he couldn't make it through without wondering if it would have been better if he had stayed home. However, he knew he had to at least make an effort. People expected it of him.

After the welcome home bash Tommy threw, Oliver had figured he had done a good enough job for a few days. So in that time, he had set up more of the foundry and got to work deciding who on the list would be next. He hadn't paid much attention to his phone; it was still odd to think of cell phones as a reliable means of communication after the island. When he got back to it, he had missed multiple calls from both Thea, Moira, and Tommy. He had easily explained his absence to his family as adaptation, but he had to think of a good excuse for Tommy.

The younger Merlyn figured Oliver would fall right back into routine, and he hadn't exactly challenged that. He had tried to pretend nothing had changed, at least at face value, but the first few days had been difficult. The island made sense to him in the end; all the people that crowded him now wondering why he was different didn't.

Since Oliver had to keep up the illusion that he was nothing more than a party boy, he had decided to just visit Tommy directly today. Perhaps the two could go bar-hopping even though Ollie didn't want to drink. Alcohol dulled the senses, and he had too much to focus on. He could fake a night of it for his best friend though.

That in mind, he knocked and waited patiently as possible. Nonetheless, he couldn't help as he took in everything around him. He watched gardeners at work, he checked the cars in the driveway; if there was something to note, he did. No matter how long he was back, he doubted the need to be sure of his surroundings would ever go away. He had faced too much on the island; he wasn't paranoid, just ready for anything.

The door opening snapped Ollie back to the present, and he quickly relaxed his muscles. He turned expecting to see Tommy, not his father. Since returning, he hadn't actually seen Malcolm, and he wasn't sure what to think of that. The elder Merlyn had been his father's best friend, and to Ollie's knowledge, he hadn't even called the house.

If Oliver didn't know any better, he would have thought Malcolm was avoiding his family for the moment. The shock on Malcolm's face was quick, but Oliver saw it anyway. He watched as the elder Merlyn seemingly relaxed his posture similarly.

"Oliver," Malcolm stated friendly enough. "It's good to see you." He gestured to allow Oliver to enter the house. "How's re-adjusting to the city life going?"

"Traffic sucks," he shrugged not wanting to talk about the changes. If he was going to put a show on for Tommy that the island hadn't changed him, then he didn't want the reminder that it had. "Otherwise, well enough I suppose." He gave Malcolm a smile, albeit forced.

"That's good," he said clapping Oliver on the shoulder. The response was hard to suppress; he couldn't help but tense. However, he didn't hesitate in forcing himself to relax; he didn't believe that Malcolm noticed. And if the elder Merlyn had, it wouldn't have mattered much. Oliver was sure the other man would brush it off to acclimation and not the urge to defend himself.

When Oliver met Malcolm's gaze though, he could see the calculating look. Hastily Ollie continued, "It's also louder here. Off balancing." Malcolm nodded and dropped his hand away.

"I'm sure the island wasn't very loud."

"All alone," Ollie lied, "No it was dead silent."

That was the moment Tommy chose to show up in the foyer, and he immediately gave Oliver a hug. "I didn't know you were planning on stopping by today. I thought after our welcome home party, you would be out of commission for at least a few more days."

"I still know how to hold my alcohol," Oliver joked. "Or did you forget in the time I was gone?"

"I wasn't talking about the alcohol," Tommy implied.

"You two boys try to stay out of trouble," Malcolm said as he retreated away. Oliver watched him carefully noting that Merlyn glanced over his shoulder slightly. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before Oliver was back to joking with Tommy.

"I know of an excellent club," Tommy was explaining, and Oliver just went along with it. "Lots of drinks, lots of girls."

Later that night, Oliver found himself forcefully pushing his way out of the club. He took to an alley and leaned back against the wall taking deep breaths. He hadn't been lying to Malcolm when he had said it was too loud. There were too many people in the city, and all the sounds were disorienting at best. The club had probably not been the best of ideas this soon, but he knew it would only take him a minute to re-focus and head back in. Tommy probably didn't even realize he had disappeared.

"Hey pretty boy, why don't you hand over your very nice watch and wallet?" some guy growled coming up next to Oliver. In his hand was a knife, and he had two more thugs standing nearby. "Don't make me have to cut up that nice face of yours…"

Oliver pursed his lips and didn't even bother to respond verbally. Instead he jabbed out catching the would-be mugger in the throat. The knife clattered to the pavement, out of reach and use of the criminals. He quickly continued by throwing the mugger into the concrete and kicking out catching another one in their side. With a right hook, he flattened the last mugger. The three stared up at Oliver in a mix of shock and fear.

"Hey man, we didn't mean it," the crook said against the wall, his hands up defenseively. "We'll just get…" He stopped, but Oliver could see why. The one mugger on the ground had retrieved the knife and attacked.

Oliver stepped back, the knife barely knicking his suit and probably skin; he had seen the attack coming but he hadn't wanted to warn the mugger that he knew that. So he had let the idiot get in close, too close that the mugger wouldn't be able to have a counter-attack. Oliver snatched the knife arm and threw the man into the other mugger. They both slammed hard into the wall. The one still standing seemingly finally got the idea that this wasn't working and bolted.

The Hood would have followed, but Oliver felt that the persona wasn't needed in this case. The muggers would be unreliable, and Ollie hadn't shown enough of his ability to be labeled the vigilante. Instead, he straightened his suit and went to leave the alley.

Tommy was on the sidewalk, looking around, and Oliver barely hesitated in the alley. The fight, while not much of one, had helped him to concentrate and pull his act back into one piece. He was half-tempted to go suit up, but as he stared at Tommy, he realized he couldn't exactly ditch his friend. He didn't want to deal with the questions tomorrow, so he walked into his friend's eye line.

Tommy grinned stupidly and wrapped an arm around Oliver. "Where'd you go?" he asked, obviously drunk.

"Thought I saw that brunette head out here," he easily said even there was no brunette to start. "Come on, we should probably get you home."

"No, no, no," Tommy countered. "We need to get back in there. You have so much still to catch up on."

"Another night," Oliver sighed guiding Tommy to the car they had taken together. He unceremoniously dumped Tommy in the passenger seat. Diggle appeared from the alley, but Oliver had already climbed into the driver's seat and sped away without his bodyguard. Diggle had become increasingly harder to ditch for long periods, and Ollie wasn't sure how much longer it would take before Diggle just handcuffed them together. That would make his nights just a tad bit more difficult to manage.

Back at the Merlyn residence, Oliver helped Tommy to the door and then to the couch. Tommy collapsed against it with a groan, one hand clasped over his face. The hangover tomorrow would be wicked and unrelenting if Oliver didn't at least set out a glass of water. His memory of the residence was intact as he quickly located the kitchen.

He was just finishing filling a glass when a voice broke out, "I figured you two would be out longer."

Oliver relaxed and shrugged in response to Malcolm's unspoken question. He watched as the elder Merlyn invaded his personal space, and he found that he gripped the glass tighter. He had to be careful or risk it breaking.

"You didn't drive did you?" he continued.

"I didn't drink that much," Ollie lied. He hadn't drank at all. "And I figured better me than Tommy." He went to push past Malcolm. "I'm just going to take this to Tommy, and I'll be gone."

The elder Merlyn narrowed his gaze and snatched part of Oliver's suit. "What happened?" he asked referring to the minor cut.

"Huh," Oliver frowned. "Club was packed. I got nicked probably doing some scuffle." He wanted to get out of there.

"You should clean that."

"I will when I get home." Oliver could tell Malcolm wanted to say something more.

"Come," Malcolm said. "Better to just do it now. Then you can head home."

Oliver wanted to argue, but he couldn't think of a reason the elder Merlyn would accept without suspicion. So with a smile, he nodded and followed Malcolm to a dining room. He was told to sit, remove his jacket, and wait. He followed the first and last order well enough, but he wasn't sure how comfortable he was with stripping any of his clothes off. He worried that if he took his jacket off, Malcolm would push to get the shirt off to better look at the cut… and Oliver didn't want anyone else seeing his scars; they brought up too many questions. Thus, he hesitated.

"I can do this myself," Oliver tried to argue when Malcolm returned, but apparently, that wasn't good enough.

"Come on Oliver," he sighed, and there wasn't anything for the young Queen to do besides listen. He couldn't continue to argue and risk the questions that might arise, so he pulled his jacket off and hoped that it would be enough. "How do you not know how you got this?" Malcolm asked pulling the shirt away at the sight of the cut to see that it wasn't deep, simply long.

Oliver decided a bit of truth might dissolve suspicion, so he answered, "There was a lot going on in the club. I couldn't exactly focus on anything specifically, so no I'm not entirely sure how I got it."

"Disorienting?" Malcolm asked.

"Everything is," he sighed and nodded. "People want me to be the person they remember, and it's hard to fall back into old habits."

"Perhaps you should stop trying to be who you were," he suggested as he wrapped a bit of gauze around the cut and taped it down. Oliver had been right that he could have probably taken care of it himself. The unanswered question hung in the air: who was Oliver now? The Hood could have answered that, but that wouldn't be the answer Malcolm would want Oliver thought.

"Perhaps." Oliver shrugged his jacket back on. "Thank you Mr. Merlyn. You and Tommy should come over for dinner sometime. It will be good to have everyone back." Oliver changing the subject worked well enough that Malcolm nodded.

Nonetheless as Malcolm watched Oliver walk away, he couldn't shake the feeling that Oliver was walling something away… he had seen how Robert's son reacted to stimuli, and he could tell that the boy had been through enough. It made him wonder how different this new Queen truly was.


	2. Strength

**Note:** This takes place during Damaged, and it focuses a lot on Malcolm

**Strength**

Malcolm muted the television and leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. He was still at Merlyn Global, so his reactions were mild and controlled as he processed the idea that Oliver Queen was the vigilante. Some small part of Merlyn scoffed at such an idea; he had watched the boy grow up almost as a second son. Oliver Queen was no killer, and he was Robert's son.

However a larger part of Merlyn, the more sadistic and cunning side found that it all fit too easily. He had seen Oliver a few days ago, and he had seen how the younger Queen tensed, coiled as if ready to strike. He had watched as Oliver noted his surroundings; that was a reaction of a man who was a survivor, someone who knew danger and could fight back.

The mask Oliver wore was so similar to his own. The pain and rage was concealed beneath a thin layer of apathy, and the only reason Malcolm could see it was because he had been so similar. Before the League, he had been unable to control any of his emotions concerning Rebecca's death. Any thought of her would tear him apart, and seeing Tommy was the worse. His young son that looked and reminded him so much of his late wife. He couldn't stand it, so he had left. When he returned from the League, it was with a mask in place, and he had seen the same mask on Oliver's face.

Oliver was dangerous, and while Malcolm had known that prior to this, the news had confirmed just how much of a threat his best friend's son actually was. The island really had changed him, Merlyn couldn't help but think. It made him wonder exactly what happened to the boy that would cause such a drastic development.

The Dark Archer considered his chances for recruiting Oliver to his cause, the Undertaking. The boy obviously had some inkling of what it was with his other persona targeting people off the List. Perhaps it would be worth actually finding out how much Oliver knew; he had obviously been holding some things back about what exactly happened on the island. Robert must have survived for some time; it was the only way Oliver would be able to pick up this mantle.

And in that was what worried Malcolm. He had seen the boy a few times since his return, and Ollie hadn't directed any specific anger towards the elder Merlyn. Oliver had to be, at least, in the dark about Malcolm's involvement in the sinking of the Gambit, but the moment Oliver discovered the truth, he would probably be in Merlyn's office, hood and all. It wasn't worth the risk…

For all Malcolm knew, Oliver did already know the truth and was biding his time. All of this was too dangerous to his Undertaking; he would make this city better. He couldn't have anyone in his way, even his best friend's son. For that, Malcolm did feel a twinge of anguish. The day he convinced Thorne to send off the Gambit, bomb attached, he hadn't planned on Oliver joining in on the journey, and by the time he had learned, it was too late to call the yacht back.

Simply put when Oliver had been found by some miracle five years later alive, Malcolm had been almost just as elated as his son. It was sad to lose Robert, but he had been grateful that Robert's son also hadn't paid the price.

Except for the twenty percent of Oliver's body was now covered in scar tissue… Merlyn's eyes trailed back to the computer where the hacked medical file sat open on his computer screen. When he had first heard about the arrest, he had wasted no time in trying to confirm the reports… the medical file had been his first stop then the video footage. The footage was easily sketchy and not conclusive, but the scars told a different story. They told Merlyn of the man Oliver could be and combine that with the look Meryln had seen on Oliver's face, he found that it wasn't impossible to believe that the young Queen was in fact this vigilante.

It was too bad Malcolm contemplated. When the Hood had shown up and an archer no less, Malcolm had felt the urge to done his own gear and hunt down the other. He wanted to see who was better, but there wasn't any time for that. He had to put a stop to Oliver now, and for that, he felt terrible. He didn't want to end his best friend's son's life, but nothing would stop this Undertaking. For Rebecca, he'd finish this work. He would find strength in her memory and complete his goal of seeing a new Starling City born, free of disease and the vermin in the Glades.

The silence of his office was deafening, and every time he moved for his phone to call one of his men, he found himself frozen. The strength of Rebecca's memory alone wasn't enough for him to call and end Oliver's life. Annoyed with himself, Merlyn reached under his desk for the tape he kept of Rebecca's message that night. This would be enough for him.

As her voice rang out, Malcolm stood and paced, caged. He murmured the words under his breath, words he had committed to memory. She had died alone and agony in the Glades… they each would pay for the pain she felt that night. Resolved strengthened, he glanced towards his hidden wall. Perhaps for something as personal as this, he should don his gear and go after Oliver himself. He didn't like the idea that he would be the one directly taking the boy's life, but his best friend's son at least deserved that over a call to a random hitman.

However Moira would have his head; as it was, she wouldn't be thrilled with her son being killed. Nonetheless, she'd be that much harder to control if she thought it was him directly that took Oliver's life. No, sadly, this had to be done by a second party. He didn't turn off the tape but kept it on replay as he made the call to one of his men.

"Yes," he said crisply. "I need you to go to the Queen residence and put this vigilante to rest. Do not touch the rest of the family and make Oliver's death quick and _clean_." Malcolm emphasized the end. He did not want it splattered all over the news tomorrow that the young Queen had been shot multiple times before bleeding out. That wouldn't look good for anyone. "Report back to me when it's done." With that, he hung up barely listening to the confirmation the other man gave.

"Forgive me Robert," he whispered to himself. "But not even your son can stand between me and the Undertaking." He poured himself a glass and waited for the inevitable call.

Malcolm's glass crashed into the wall and shattered, and he, in turn, collapsed back into his chair. He ran a weary hand across his face. He had waited half the night to hear confirmation that Oliver Queen was dead; instead, he watched a news report about the vigilante stopping an arm's deal while Oliver Queen was at his bash and on anklet. By the time he had seen the report, there was no way for him to call back the assassin, and he had felt terrible.

At least until the news broke about the botched attempt that the police stopped. While the Queens' didn't say it directly, the police were at fault. They had pinned a massive target on the young man, and during the press conference exonerating Oliver, the detectives had the good decency to look ashamed by their actions.

He should have done more to confirm it was Oliver… Malcolm frowned and cursed himself internally. It was a mistake, but at least, nothing had come out of it. Oliver was still alive and with the police dropping all charges, he wouldn't be a target anymore.

Still, Merlyn couldn't shake how certain he had been. The boy had been so similar to him in those beginning years after the League. Malcolm decided to keep an eye on Oliver at the very least; he owed Robert that after all this. He could tell something was off with the younger Queen, but there was always a chance it was simply the nightmares the island had brought… the twenty percent of his body… If he was careful and caring, he could learn more about what happened, even learn how long Robert lived and who else he could have told about the Undertaking and the List…

That was if Moira didn't kill him first.


	3. Tension

**Episode:** Legacy to Year's End

**Tension**

Oliver found himself back in the Merlyn residence only a week and a half after being cleared of being the vigilante. He hadn't meant to avoid Tommy, but with everything that happened with Laurel, he needed a few days to get everything in the right order in his own head. The mask, the disguise, he wore in public had to be situated perfectly as he fully expected Tommy to grill him then tease him about how the girls he could have gotten had he been the vigilante.

The servant had let him in and pointed to the rec room, and while his memory was less fuzzy of this place, it still took him a good five to ten minutes to find the room. However when he arrived, he realized the servant had pointed him to the wrong Merlyn.

Malcolm was in the middle of a fencing exercise, and as the elder Merlyn moved fluidly, Oliver watched intensely. He would have noted weaknesses in form if there were any, and he could see that in the art of fencing Malcolm would be unchallenged. Another thought rose to his mind at that, but Oliver pushed it away quickly. He did not need to think of Slade in this moment.

The match came to a close with Merlyn landing a clean hit to the chest of his opponent. For a moment, Oliver perhaps thought that the other man was Tommy, and in his five year absence, his friend had actually begun to enjoy fencing. That thought faded when the man pulled off his mask though, and he gave Oliver an odd look.

"Leave us," Merlyn ordered pulling his own fencing mask away. The other man disappeared without question, and Oliver wandered farther into the room.

The hair on his neck stood on end; if he hadn't known better, he would have felt that he was being watched by a predator, a hunter. When he glanced to Malcolm, the man's face was expressionless but focused solely on him. It quickly broke into a smile though, and had it been anyone else, Oliver was sure they would have brushed that look off. But his training from the island prevented such things. Perhaps Malcolm still considered him to be the Hood, exonerated or not… that meant Oliver had to tread lightly to protect his secret.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," Oliver explained as he picked up a spare fencing mask. "I was looking for Tommy, and I was pointed in this direction."

Malcolm stared at Ollie with a frown. "Tommy left."

"Left? What do you mean left?" he quickly asked. He worried for a brief moment that someone had grabbed Tommy.

The elder Merlyn didn't answer the question; instead he walked to a nearby bench to gulp down some water greedily. "Do you still fence?" he asked instead. Younger, Oliver had dabbled in it, and on the island, Slade had taught him how to work with swords. Fencing directly, on the other hand, he hadn't done that in years.

"Not since the island," Oliver shrugged, and when he went to ask about Tommy again, Malcolm was tossing him a sword. His hone reflexes forced him to catch the fencing sword.

"Let's see how much you remember," Malcolm smiled. "Tommy was on his way here when I talked to him last. This will help to pass the time."

On one hand, Oliver was all set to decline. He wasn't sure how much he could reel himself in and pretend to be clumsy. His training was instinctual; he would slip. The other hand screamed at him to put on the suit and go a few rounds. Fighting always had the ability to focus Oliver to new levels, and tonight he had another name to scratch off the list, the focus he could find here would only help him out there.

Trying to be the Oliver Malcolm most likely remembered, Ollie joked dryly, "Aren't you worried I'll show you up, old man?"

"We'll see," Malcolm replied.

Once Oliver was suited up and had the mask pulled over his face, he joined Malcolm on the mat and assumed the first position. It was unfamiliar and different, too rigid. He didn't get the chance to think on that when Malcolm lunged, but Oliver's reaction was quicker. He parried the hit and quickly allowed himself to on the defensive. He would feel out the elder Merlyn's weaknesses here, and then form a plan to go on the offensive.

This went on for a few minutes when Malcolm finally stepped back and shook his head. "Not exactly true form but good nonetheless."

Oliver would have responded, but Merlyn came at him again. However, he had expected this and knocked the blow away and swung to attack. Malcolm jumped back and blocked, and the two resumed their dance. At some point, Oliver realized he was probably showing too much skill and purposefully allowed Merlyn to get in close and hit him. The blow didn't sting, and he barely felt it.

"Did you do that on purpose?" Malcolm asked. He was observant.

"It was a good hit," Oliver responded with a shrug. "Maybe the elderly do have something on us kids." Underneath the mask, Ollie flinched. The words had slipped out but with what he was doing and saying the word _kid_, his mind wandered back to Slade. Thankfully, he didn't think of their last meeting but of one of the few training sessions where Slade had tried and failed to get Oliver interested in the sword. Shado had enjoyed interrupting them to have him try the bow instead.

In his distraction, Malcolm had come in again and landed another clean hit. Oliver hadn't even registered the attack and cursed himself lightly under his breath. He knew better, but before he could re-assume a defensive posture, Malcolm was pulling off his mask.

"Are you all right Oliver?" he asked, genuinely concerned. Based on what he had seen thus far, he had expected Oliver to easily deflect his attack not just take it head on.

"Yes I'm all right Mr. Merlyn," Oliver lied as he pulled his own mask away.

"Memory from the island?" he continued. He saw that haunted gaze in Oliver's eyes; he had the same look soon after Rebecca died. Her death and call would play over and over in his mind, and it would drag him off to the unknown. When he came out of it, it could have been hours later.

Oliver could have lied again and put on some easy smile, but he didn't have it in him. Malcolm had practically been a second father to him growing up… at least before Rebecca's death and once he had returned from wherever he had disappeared to.

"If it helps, the flashbacks never exactly stop," Merlyn offered. "But you learn to control them and push past them." Something the League had taught him.

"The nightmares are worse," Ollie sighed putting the blade down. "And it is getting better. Sometimes I just see reminders of things that happened." Oliver wouldn't volunteer this information, but he wasn't entirely fond of yachts anymore. "Your wife?" he, in turn, asked. The air in the room felt constricted, and Oliver and Malcolm took a moment to stare and consider the other. Oliver felt he was being judged and reviewed which was strange considering he was doing the exact same thing to the elder Merlyn.

The spell was broken when Malcolm nodded solemnly before glancing beyond Oliver and said, "Tommy, it is good to see you."

Oliver turned to look and saw that Tommy did not feel the same. Whatever Oliver had missed, it had been something. He broke the awkward silence by removing himself from the room and changing out of the fencing suit. The fencing sword forgotten, but the memory of Slade not, Oliver returned to see Tommy and Malcolm half way to being in each other's faces. Neither looked thrilled with the other, and Ollie wasn't in the mood to be caught between this tensions.

"Is this a bad time?" Oliver ventured hoping to break whatever this was up.

"No," Tommy answered, teeth ground together. "It's not. Let's go Ollie."

"It was nice seeing you again Mr. Merlyn," Ollie said as he practically had to chase after Tommy.

"You as well Oliver. I hope we can find time for a re-match later." Malcolm watched the duo leave, and he doubted he'd see Ollie at the house anytime soon again. He was sure Tommy would tell Oliver that he had cut Tommy off completely. Hopefully, that knocked some sense into Tommy, but Malcolm wasn't so sure.

He rang up his other fencing partner with the intent of continuing. It would give him time to think of what just occurred. Malcolm had been fighting hard near the end, but Oliver had held his own until he was distracted. He wasn't sure what that exactly meant yet as he couldn't remember how good the boy had been pre-island days.

Oliver followed after Tommy as his friend ranted about what his father had done. He was grateful that this was the conversation of the day and not what had happened with that whole vigilante business. At least, the fencing with Malcolm had done what he wanted. His mind felt clear besides the memory of Slade clawing into his skull, and by the time, he suited up tonight that would fade as well.

It was too bad Tommy had a falling out with his father; Oliver liked Malcolm.


	4. Draw

**Episode:** Dead to Right's

**Draw**

Oliver wasn't entirely sure what to expect when he rushed to save Malcolm from the Chinese Triad; he didn't even know why the man had been targeted. However since his change from just going after those on the List to any criminal, he wasn't going to turn his back on Malcolm. It wouldn't have changed either had he not been Tommy's father.

By the time the Hood arrived, gunfire had already erupted. He rushed to the floor he heard it from and burst out in time to put an arrow into one gunmen and to take cover behind a pillar. In his periphery he spotted both Tommy and Malcolm, and he was glad they were both okay. If they were going to stay that way though, Oliver had to get them off this floor.

Tilting his head down to hide his face, he shouted for Malcolm and Tommy to leave. If he had looked up, he would have seen Malcolm's incredulous look. The elder Merlyn wasn't too surprised at being targeted; with what he was planning, there was always that chance. He had simply hoped that everyone would remain steadfast and realize that this Undertaking was the only way to save Starling city. The thing that gave him a moment's hesitation was the vigilante's appearance. At first, he thought perhaps the other archer was here to kill him, but he observed how the Hood gave him and his son cover fire to escape.

Malcolm didn't even glance over his shoulder again as he dragged Tommy up the next flight of stairs. Between keeping his son safe or taking his shot at the vigilante again, he was ready to choose his son. The only thing that mattered in this moment was getting to his panic room and his bow. Once he had that, he'd dispose of these worthless individuals.

With his focus in place, Malcom paused when the two men with gun appeared. He would have waited longer, but when one aimed at his son, he tried not to snarl as he attacked. There was a fraction of a second when he didn't put a bullet into the assassin's head; Malcolm felt uncomfortable for a moment about his son seeing this. It passed and he ended the man's life.

Tommy was sputtering something behind him, and he sighed off an answer. Once he explained how safe his office actually was, he moved to his hidden wall. His weapons were finally within reach when an explosion knocked him off his feet. Malcolm's sense of survival was overridden by his worry for his son, so he sprung quickly back to his feet. He hadn't considered that someone would use the hole in his window to shoot him until the first bullet struck him. The pain blossomed out from the Kevlar vest, and he crashed into his own floor.

Malcolm had been shot before both with and without the vest. When he cracked his gaze to see Tommy, he was relieved, but he immediately noticed something was wrong. Still, he re-assured Tommy before the darkness tried to claim him again. As his consciousness faded, he hoped that the assassin would leave his son alone now that he was done.

Downstairs, Oliver dispatched the hitmen and had an arrow notched when McKenna showed up; he didn't want to accidently hurt his girlfriend, but he didn't want to get shot either. He froze and considered his options. There weren't that many that didn't end with one of them in a body bag, so instead he risked a quick shot at an air tank. Thankfully, the valve didn't hit McKenna, and he used the distraction to escape.

The Chinese Triad was persistent, so he didn't doubt that in the penthouse there would be even more men. He had to check on Mr. Merlyn and Tommy. When he reached the penthouse, he found the window blown out and Malcolm on his back. He worried the man might be dead, but when Tommy snatched a gun and aimed it at his heart to protect Malcolm, Oliver figured that the bullet had pierced enough to poison but not kill.

It was easily one of the stupidest things he had done, but if Tommy didn't calm down, Malcolm would die. Oliver removed his hood and revealed himself to his best friend, and that knocked the air out of Tommy. He didn't waste time after that getting the blood transfusion set up, and without even glancing at Tommy, he could tell his best friend wasn't taking this new information well. He wouldn't even meet Oliver's eyes.

Once the blood was flowing quickly enough that Oliver was sure the paramedics would have enough time to get Malcolm to the hospital, he stood, barely in time too. Malcolm was opening his eyes as the poison was ebbing away. He wasn't sure if he pulled his hood up in time, but he didn't wait around long enough to check. Deciding that the father and son needed time alone and not with a vigilante in the room, Oliver took his leave. He'd meet up with them back at the hospital, and there he would talk with Tommy. At least, he had thanked Oliver… it lent him hope that Tommy would get over this.

The younger Merlyn couldn't hide his elation at seeing his father breathing, and it was only that feeling that convinced him to lie to the detectives. Then again, it wasn't entirely a complete lie; he really didn't know who Oliver Queen was anymore. Did his father know the truth? After all, he had seen that apparently Malcolm didn't shy away from killing either or fighting for that matter. Tommy didn't know either of them; that much was obvious.

Tommy didn't leave his father's side until he woke. The younger Merlyn had still been worried even with the doctor's assurances that Malcolm would eventually wake; his body just needed time.

"Hey dad, dad, dad.," Tommy said as Malcolm slowly woke. "Take it easy. You were shot and the bullet was laced with poison." He sat next to his father.

Malcolm quickly deduced, "I should be dead."

"I gave you a blood transfusion. Actually it was the vigilante's idea. He saved you," Tommy explained with a frown.

Malcolm hadn't expected that. At least that told him that his secret as the Dark Archer was safe; the Hood had no idea who he was. That bought him time to finish his work; however, it did change some things. Malcolm despised being indebted to someone, and he didn't like to think he owed the vigilante anything… Tommy and Malcolm continued to talk until Moira interrupted them. With that Tommy took his leave to have that talk with Oliver except he had only one question… and he had to know the answer.

Oliver tried to shake off the look Tommy gave him as he went to Mr. Merlyn's room. He hadn't expected Tommy to just accept the truth, but he hadn't counted on how much it might hurt his best friend to know he wouldn't have told Tommy the truth ever. He wiped those thoughts from his mind though and hid his conflicting emotions beneath his façade.

"Hello Mr. Merlyn," Oliver said stepping into the room. He watched as his mother pulled away abruptly and excused herself. He put it at the back of his mind for now. "I'm glad to see that you're doing better."

"Yes, and I hear I should be thanking the Hood for that," Malcolm responded with a casual smile.

"I hear it differently," Oliver shrugged stepping next to the bed. "Tommy gave you the blood transfusion. He saved your life."

Malcolm nodded and considered Oliver's words. However the Queen boy wasn't done talking as he quickly added, "Well either way, I am glad you are okay. I'm sure you'll be back on your feet soon enough, and maybe, we can have that fencing re-match." Oliver was sure that wouldn't come to pass; Tommy was not thrilled with him one bit. He could tell when he was about to be ostracized, and he could only hope that this was a short term issue. He didn't want to lose his best friend, but he wasn't about to give up being the Hood either. The city needed to be saved.

"That sounds good," he said snapping Oliver from his thoughts.

Oliver took his leave soon after to return to the Foundry again. He had expected to be alone when he arrived, but Felicity was still hard at work. She was focused solely on the computer screen and hadn't even heard Oliver enter. He smiled and shook his head and approached her quietly.

"Are you trying to figure out who put the hit out on Merlyn?" Oliver asked which caused Felicity to jump. She stared up at him, startled and hand over her heart.

"I've been trying to back-trace the money, but it's been routed numerous times," she sighed. "I'll find where it originated."

"And the who?"

"That," she frowned, "might be a bit more difficult."

Oliver left it unsaid that the why was what bothered him the most. Why Malcolm Merlyn…


	5. Release

**Episode:** Darkness on the Edge of Town/Sacrifice

**Release**

"_Oh no,_" Malcolm choked out. He fell back onto his heels as he stared down at the Hood… or Oliver Queen. Since the young boy had been cleared, Malcolm hadn't thought of it again; he hadn't connected the dots. Perhaps, he hadn't wanted to when the answer had practically been in his face the entire time. Robert Queen, the man he helped murder, son was the vigilante and currently unconscious at Malcolm's feet.

The elder Merlyn had to make a decision quick about how to proceed with this new information. The Hood was a thorn in his side, a danger to the Undertaking, but Malcolm wasn't sure he could just kill Oliver Queen. There were numerous knives in his side room that he could use to make the boy's death painless and easy, but he found he couldn't get his feet to move in that particular direction. He didn't want the Undertaking in danger, yet there had to be a way to explain it to the young Queen why is was necessary.

Malcolm moved to his desk and retrieved a tranquilizer for extreme cases such as this. Before Oliver Queen could regain consciousness, Malcolm slipped the needle into the Hood's neck and injected the drug. It would buy Malcolm a couple hours at the very least. If he couldn't talk Oliver around, then… well then, he'd kill Oliver just as easily he killed Robert. He wouldn't take joy in the act, but some things had to be done.

Calling in some men, Malcolm had them haul Oliver discreetly downstairs. There was a warehouse on the outskirts of town and far from the Glades that would work perfectly to hold the Hood for some time, and Malcom had picked men that would listen to orders to stand guard. The last thing the elder Merlyn needed was for one of them to take revenge or kill the Hood because they had the opportunity.

At the warehouse, a chain was hung from a pipe in the ceiling, and while Malcolm could use his men to hang the vigilante, he decided against it. He wanted to do the work to try and understand how partier Oliver Queen became the Hood. Five years alone on an island could not do that, so there was another layer that Malcolm wanted to peel away and see.

The vigilante laid on his side, still unconscious with blood smeared across his face. Testing to see if the drug had worn off, the elder Merlyn gave the Queen boy a small kick and waited for a response. When there was none, he got to work. Any weapons that remained were removed and placed far away; Malcolm wasn't a fool. He had beaten Oliver twice, but Queen was formidable. They were almost evenly matched which meant that if Oliver saw an opening, Malcom could suffer for it.

The hood and shirt went next. Malcolm wasn't entirely gentle through the process; while he wanted to savor beating his rival, he wanted to get Oliver chained up as soon as he could. It wasn't like he'd feel much unconscious anyway, and Malcolm had done worse while Ollie had been awake. More so, the last time they had traded blows, he had almost killed the younger archer. He had shot, kicked, broke bones the last time they had fought.

Even alone, Malcolm had the shear strength to lift Oliver's dead weight and hang him from the ceiling. The younger man's toes barely touched the ground, and it would keep him off balance when he did awake. There would be no easy escape from these shackles, and it was for that reason Malcolm had chosen them.

For a moment, the Merlyn stepped back and observed his handiwork. Besides the fact it was Oliver and he felt a bit terrible about that, he was rather proud of what he saw. The vigilante was beaten and strung up helpless and at his mercy. It was a thrilling thought for Malcolm, but he still wished that it hadn't been Queen. After what he'd done to Robert, he had thought he wouldn't have to kill anymore of the Queen family, so he hoped that he could talk Oliver around. The archer obviously held the same passion for wanting to save the city; he had to see reason that destroying the Glades was the only option. One simply couldn't fight the symptoms forever; the disease had to be eradicated.

Malcolm took the moment to circle Oliver and take in every scar and tattoo. A few times he reached out and brushed against the raised skin, trying to determine what weapon would cause such wounds. They weren't natural, so on the island, Oliver had obviously been tortured. The lacerations and burns each told Malcolm a story of pain and survival. The young archer had been through and overcome a lot. Malcolm idly wondered if all of this could have been avoided if he had only tried to speak with the Hood to start, offer a friendship and an understanding. Share pain and thru that, gain an alliance…

Sadly though, what's done was done and they were enemies. Malcolm was certain that when Oliver awoken, he wouldn't be happy with the elder Merlyn. After all, the Dark Archer had ordered the bomb to be placed on the Gambit; he had killed Robert. That wouldn't be something easily forgotten.

Oliver groaned quietly, and his muscles twitched. His skin shone with sweat from the strain on his body, and Malcolm could hear the tell-tale sign of a hiss as Oliver was forcing himself to come around. The drug was wearing off, and Malcolm moved out of range of any kicks that Oliver might try. He stepped out and motioned for one of his men to fully wake the vigilante. The two needed to have a talk, and he was eager to get started.

"How did you want me to get him up?" the man asked with a sneer. His hand trailed towards his gun, and Malcolm scowled.

"A bucket of water should work fine," he growled. "I want him awake, not dead." The man frowned but nodded. He moved away to retrieve what the elder Merlyn had requested.

Malcolm glanced back towards Oliver to see the last remnants of the drug was still at work, and the younger archer was trapped within some sort of nightmare. He was twitching and groaning under his breath, muscles flexing from the dream and his own weight.

The hired gun walked past and splashed Oliver, and he woke with a start. Malcolm watched the calculating gaze of the other archer; Oliver was assessing his situation and calming any and all emotions from his face. The Dark Archer side of Malcolm was impressed; the five years on the island had turned the young partier into something worthwhile. It was too bad that Oliver had been working against him all this time; they would have made a good duo. Malcolm stepped into the light, hoping that with some explanation he could gain the other archer's trust and use in the Undertaking.

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he said, pulling Oliver's gaze directly onto him. The snarl told Malcolm all he needed to know… they were on opposite ends of the spectrum. There would be no meeting in the middle for them, and if Malcolm didn't kill Oliver here, the Hood would hunt him down to try and kill him. It was disappointing, but at least, Oliver was strong in his convictions; Malcolm could give him at least that.

When they finished their talk, Malcolm stepped from the room; his ears straining to listen to Oliver. He doubted the archer would stay put for long. "If he tries to escape, kill him. Otherwise, leave him alone until I return." Malcolm would at least give Oliver the chance to live, but he couldn't risk the Hood showing up and stopping him later.

He realized later when none of his men checked in the mistake he had made… he should have killed Oliver himself… That was his only thought later too when the Hood shoved an arrow into him. The pain was excruciating, and it only was exemplified when Oliver released the arrow and allowed him to fall away.

At least, he still won… He had his justice.

Oliver stared in horror at the destruction of the Glades; his eyes never once trailing back to Malcolm. This wasn't justice, this was revenge; Oliver wished he could have made Malcolm see that. All these people died because of revenge.

His only coherent thought after that though was Laurel; she would be in the Glades. As he rushed away to try and save her, he glanced at Malcolm. If he had only let Deadshot kill him, if only he hadn't hesitated in releasing his own arrow, if only… so many if's, but none of it changed what happened. All of this was so similar to Slade and the Amazo.

Oliver didn't have time to dwell though as he found his bike and sped towards the Glades. He could at least save one person; instead, he had watched his best friend die. Suddenly everything Malcolm did made sense. After seeing Tommy die, Oliver wanted nothing more than to burn Merlyn Global to the ground and kill Malcolm twice. It was only Tommy's final words _Thank you_ that stopped him and grounded him through his agony.

Everything he had gone through, everything he had fought for… gone. He had failed his city.


End file.
